First off, I have to thank everyone who encouraged me to not white-knuckle the rest of the school year and instead get my son out of that nasty English class now.
I contacted the principal via e-mail that very day (Tuesday). He didn't get back to me until Thursday (I was about to barge into his office and break down his door if he didn't respond soon). I couldn't tell by his reply whether he was willing to work with me. One thing he asked was whether I'd been in contact with the teacher about the problem.
No, I hadn't. And I still have no plans to talk to her, because anything I'd say would be a personal attack. (Not a way to endear my son to her.) This isn't a matter of a teacher singling out a student or parent and teacher collaborating to find a way through a behavior problem. It's a matter of teacher incompetence and attitude. Talking to her would be tantamount to putting a target on my son's chest.
That, and I have no desire to make this work. I want my son out.
I responded to the principal, being firm--not just politely requesting a change. When I hadn't heard back the next day (Friday), I called him. He said he'd already contacted the academic counsellor to see what our transfer options were, but he hadn't heard back from her. He also wanted to talk with the teacher, but she'd taken a personal day on Friday.
Over the weekend, I decided to e-mail the academic counsellor myself. I know full well that there's another 8th grade English class with a good teacher the very same period, so if he transfers there, the rest of his schedule won't be disrupted.
She hasn't responded to the e-mail. I called her this morning, but got her voice mail. I left an urgent message, because this is getting obnoxious (it's been a week since my first contact!) and the term is moving on. I think the wheels are turning, but painfully slowly. I think I'll just show up at her office today, because it's harder to ignore a mother bear in person.
Our neighborhood constantly gets solicitors, whether it's for those teens supposedly making a life for themselves, lawn aeration, satellite TV, or a hundred other things. It's beyond annoying. The only people I'll buy stuff from are kids in my ward trying to raise money so they can participate in the high school football team or whatever. That's it.
Recently my husband bought a nice, pretty "No Soliciting" sign and stuck it to the center of the door. Yay! I thought our solicitor problems were over.
Just yesterday, the doorbell rang in the afternoon. I assumed it was a kid's friend asking to play.
"Mom, it's some men asking to see you or Dad."
Before the sign, I was always polite to solicitors, possibly to a fault: "I'm so sorry, but I'm not interested. Good luck. Have a nice day."
But now I have a sign. They know not to bug me. I have no qualms about abandoning manners, because if they see the sign and insist on ringing the doorbell anyway, they're asking for it.
As soon as I saw their stances and their clipboards, I knew what was coming. I had an urge to reach out and smack them both. They began their little pitch, "Hi, we're with such-and-such landscaping company, and--"
I interrupted, pointing to the sign. "Sorry, no soliciting."
"Oh, we aren't soliciting," the guy on the right hurried to say. "We're just . . ."
"Drumming up business?" I asked.
"Um, yeah. But we're not soliciting."
(Do you know what soliciting means, moron?)
"Sorry, not interested." (I was a bit more clipped than usual, but not rude. Yet.)
At this point, guy #2 said with a rather snotty voice, "Do you have a problem?"
Hooo, boy. NOT the way to endear yourself to a potential customer. Any lingering inclination to be polite flew south.
"Yes, I have a problem," I snapped, not pointing out the sign a second time because apparently, as I said, they were morons. "I've got a really nasty headache. So yeah, I have a problem. Good-bye."
I shut the door. Kinda hard.
Their shocked and irritated voices came though from the other side.
And I didn't care.
Today's Tour Stops:
Crazy Lady on Road 80
(Where Jan gets dressed in period clothes for authenticity.)
Sunshine in My Soul
(One word: Giveaway)
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